


Where We Belong

by thecheekydragon



Series: Where We Belong [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Big Bang, Kid Fic, M/M, POV Stiles, orphan werewolf girl, teenwolfbigbang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecheekydragon/pseuds/thecheekydragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek rescues a little werewolf girl and takes on the responsibility of caring for her.  Stiles helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where We Belong

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [teenwolfbigbang](http://teenwolfbigbang.livejournal.com).
> 
> [Cover Art and Soundtrack Mix](http://qafmaniac.livejournal.com/234396.html) by [qafmaniac](http://archiveofourown.org/users/qafmaniac/pseuds/qafmaniac).
> 
> Note: This story was conceived and mostly written before the airing of S3A so the story follows the end of S2 without taking into account the events of 3A.

_Need you to come to the house. Now._

Stiles peered at the lit up text through sleep-blurry eyes then glanced at the time on his cell phone – 1:53 am. 

Fuck.

He seriously contemplated ignoring Derek’s text and going back to sleep because a) Derek was an overbearing alpha werewolf who had absolutely no social graces and b) it was a school night. Stiles really wished Derek would save the life or death dramatics for the weekends.

Not only was Derek rude like that but he was also prone to rather quickly getting his werewolf boxers in a bunch. So Stiles reluctantly rolled out of bed and texted back: _be there in 10._

He exchanged pyjama bottoms for jeans then pulled on a hoodie over his t-shirt, hoping that whatever Derek had going on didn’t require more dressy attire. Not that Stiles had more dressy attire or that anything Derek ever had going on required clothing more dressy than jeans and a t-shirt (freshly laundered optional). After all, it wasn’t like Derek was a werewolf fashionista. His basic attire consisted of denim and leather. Which totally worked for him. Especially when the denim was _tight._

Stiles went looking for his keys in the kitchen, the first place he’d been when he’d gotten home from lacrosse practice earlier and the last place he’d visited before heading to bed. Luckily, his dad was working the night shift. On the one hand, this made it easier for Stiles to go out the front door with minimal need to be all hush-hush about it instead of having to climb out his bedroom window and precariously scale the roof because – _newsflash!_ – Stiles was really not the most coordinated teen and that was just an accident waiting to happen. On the other hand, it meant he’d have to be on the alert when driving out to the Hale house because every deputy in Beacon Hills was intimately familiar with Stiles’ Jeep and not one of them would even hesitate to bust him to their boss, the sheriff, Stiles’ dad, if they saw him driving around at two o’clock in the morning on a school night.

He glanced at the time on his phone. It was now 1:56 am. Which meant that he had less than five hours to get his butt back home before his dad returned from his shift and less than six hours to get ready and get to school. Stiles hoped whatever Derek needed at this hour was important and that it went quick.

The old Hale house was dark when Stiles pulled up in his Jeep. Not that it was surprising. Stiles was certain there was no live electricity running through the burnt out shell of what used to be a rather impressive mansion in the woods. Still, Derek could have left a lantern on the porch or something. Or met him out in the drive so that Stiles wasn’t blindly making his way to what could easily be mistaken for an elaborate set of some horror film. It was like _Psycho_ (without the hill) meets _The Shining_ (without Jack Nicholson) with a side order of _Rosemary’s Baby_ (without the baby).

Stiles cursed himself for the tenth time for forgetting his flashlight, making a mental note to have one sewn into the sleeves of all of his hoodies like his mom used to do with his mittens when he was five. He decided he deserved mucho compensation for having to traipse bravely through the woods to get to the creepy horror movie house at night. Plus gas money for driving his Jeep around at the whim of a grumpy werewolf. Stiles was seventeen and gas wasn’t cheap, okay? His part-time job at the library barely covered the ‘extras’ his dad insisted Stiles pay for. But since Derek hadn’t even left so much as a glimmer to light the path to the house, Stiles doubted he’d get more than a raised brow and a put-upon sigh for his troubles.

Stiles pushed open the rickety front door (and, really, who voluntarily chose to hang out here?), telling himself that Derek was letting the whole horror movie thing go a little too far. Probably just to fuck with Stiles for his own amusement. Freaking werewolf humour. Seriously.

Half the roof of the Hale house was missing which allowed the moonlight to stream in and brighten a section of the foyer, staircase, and mostly dilapidated living room. It was more than enough light for a werewolf with supernatural night vision but Stiles had to strain his eyes to adjust to the dark. He was going to have to have a talk with Derek about the message of discrimination against humans communicated here. Never mind that Stiles was pretty much the only human who willingly mingled with werewolves. It was still rude not to consider the average but inferior senses of non-supernatural beings.

“What the hell is so important,” Stiles began to grouse, knowing it was the best way to pull Derek out from the shadows like the creeper he was, “that you had to drag my ass out here at freaking two in the morning? So help me God, if you tell me you need me to read you a bedtime story because you’re having trouble slee—whoa.”

Stiles stared at the sleeping child-sized lump bundled in blankets on the ratty couch in the living room. Derek, who was standing behind said ratty coach, raised a finger to his lips then motioned for Stiles to join him in what Stiles guessed used to be the kitchen. 

“There’s a kid on your couch,” Stiles said, stating the obvious in case Derek had missed it. 

“I know,” Derek said dryly. “That’s why I texted you.”

Derek had texted him because there was a kid on his coach? “Why is there a kid on your couch?”

Derek sighed. Then he told Stiles how he had come across a party of rogue hunters in the woods just beyond the Hale property. They had cornered a werewolf family and had managed to strike down both of the adult werewolves by the time Derek had gotten there. There had been nothing he could have done to save them. He had been about to eviscerate the group of hunters but noticed a little girl crouched on the ground next to the dead wolves, wailing over the bodies of what must have been her parents.

“I had to bury them in the woods, Stiles,” Derek said and Stiles did not miss the look of traumatized grief that passed over Derek’s features. “With her standing right there.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know what else to do so I brought her here. Then I texted you.”

Okay, so apparently just another sucky day in the life of Derek Hale. 

“Yeah, but why’d you text _me_?” Stiles asked, curious. Granted, Erica and Boyd were off searching for a better pack, Isaac was still weighing whether he wanted to stay with Derek, and Scott continued to assert his lone wolf status while throwing it in Derek’s face every chance he could get, so by default that made Stiles the only one really left. But still.

Derek shrugged. “You seem like you’d be good with kids.”

Really? Stiles allowed himself to bask in the rare compliment for all of three seconds before realizing that what Derek probably meant was that Stiles was like a child so he’d likely be good at relating to other kids. Still, if that was Derek’s bar then Scott probably would have been the better choice, lone wolf or not.

“Derek?” a little voice called from the other room. It was tentative and sleepy and definitely one that belonged to a little girl who was maybe six or seven, Stiles guessed.

Derek’s eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. It would have been comical, if not for the circumstances, and Stiles quickly understood that the big bad wolf was feeling totally out of his element here. For all of Derek’s heroism in rescuing the little werewolf girl from the hunters who had killed her parents, it was clear he had no idea what he was supposed to do with her now. 

Stiles went to the living room, letting Derek, the scaredy wolf, follow him. The little girl was sitting up now and Stiles knelt down in front of her, keeping a little distance so as not to frighten her. His eyes had adjusted to the dark somewhat and he could see her better now. Her dark curls were a mess, her face was smudged with dirt and streaked with tears, and she was wearing what looked like one of Derek’s t-shirts, completely swallowing up her small frame. But it was her eyes that Stiles noticed most. They were a captivating shade of aqua blue, full of grief and a little fear, but they shone brightly – almost magically – in the moonlight. Stiles decided right then and there that he was done for.

“Hi! I’m Stiles, Derek’s friend,” he introduced, thinking ‘friend’ was probably a bit of a stretch. “What’s your name?”

The little girl looked him over, assessing. “Luciwanaonowyn,” she replied shyly, or at least that was the gist of what Stiles had understood.

“Wow. That’s a mouthful,” he expressed and the little girl giggled. Really, were the Hales the only sensible werewolf parents who had given their kids normal names like ‘Derek’ and ‘Laura’? (Yeah, okay, he was aware that someone with his own given name probably shouldn’t cast judgement.) “And I should know,” he told her. “Because my mouth’s always full. Usually with words or curly fries.” Derek snorted and Stiles shot him a look. Then he returned his attention to the girl, giving her a wink. “So I’m just gonna call you Lucy, if that’s okay.”

The little girl giggled again. “Okay,” she said.

Hey, maybe Derek was right. Maybe Stiles _was_ good with kids.

Stiles helped bundle Lucy back up in the blankets on the couch, telling her to go back to sleep. He was about to tag on a wish of “sweet dreams” but after what Lucy had been through, Stiles didn’t think the little girl’s dreams would be ‘sweet’ for quite a while. He settled for patting her hair then returned to the ‘kitchen’ with Derek.

“So what are you going to do?” he asked the alpha werewolf.

Derek shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You should call Child Services --”

“No.”

Stiles sighed. “You can’t keep her, Derek.”

“She’s got no one left, Stiles.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “Which is _why_ you should call Child Services. This way she can be placed with a foster family and someone can take care of her.”

“She’s a werewolf, Stiles,” Derek said. “She can’t just be placed with some human family.”

Okay, so Derek had a point. But it was almost three in the morning and Stiles’ brain wasn’t exactly functioning at full capacity.

“You sure she’s a wolf?” he asked. It was possible Lucy wasn’t born a wolf even though her parents were werewolves.

“Yes,” Derek told him. 

Stiles didn’t question further. He knew Derek could detect other werewolves just by scent. 

“Okay,” he said, trying to shift his thinking into gear. “You need a plan.”

Derek looked at him with an expression that clearly said, “No shit, Sherlock.” Although with Derek and his propensity for monosyllablism, it was probably more like “duh”. 

“And I’ll help you come up with one,” Stiles offered, exhaling another sigh. “But not tonight. I gotta sleep, dude. My dad’ll be home in a few hours and I got school. I need a few more hours of rest to be able to think straight.” Since Scott had been bitten, Stiles barely managed to get four or five hours of sleep a night. Seriously, how had this become his life?

“Okay,” Derek said and Stiles was glad he wasn’t going to push it.

“Okay.” 

Stiles passed a hand over his face, trying to rub the fatigue away as he climbed into his Jeep. He’d sleep for another couple of hours, go to school, and try to come up with a plan for Derek regarding Lucy. He could totally do this.

When he passed by the patrol car at the bend heading back into town, Stiles prayed to whatever God was listening that it was Meyers in the car because he knew the deputy would be having his nightshift nap right about now and wouldn’t see Stiles’ Jeep pass.

He skipped lacrosse practice after school (he knew he’d get a text from Scott asking where he was but Stiles was very good at pretending he missed Scott’s text messages – “Dude, I totally didn’t see your text until now...” – just like Scott was very good at pretending he didn’t get Stiles’ repeated texts) and headed to Derek’s house. Lucy needed clothes that weren’t Derek’s ill-fitted, over-sized t-shirts (which decidedly looked better on him) and Derek needed to stock up on at least minimal groceries now that he had a guest.

“How’s my favourite were-girl doing?” Stiles greeted the seven-year-old who was still wearing Derek’s huge t-shirt and a pair of dirty jeans.

Lucy giggled. 

“Here,” he said, pulling out the Spiderman t-shirt he had tucked away in his backpack that morning. It had been one of Stiles’ favourite t-shirts but it was at least two sizes too small for him now. “Go put this on. It’ll fit better than that one until we get you some new clothes.”

Lucy trotted off to another room to change shirts. Derek stood in the doorway of the kitchen. He gave Stiles a look. 

“What?” Stiles said. “Your shirt looks ridiculous on her.”

Derek arched an eyebrow.

Lucy came trotting back to Stiles, now sporting the Spiderman tee. It was still a little big on the little girl but it looked way better than Derek’s humongous black one. Plus, it had Spiderman on it. 

Stiles knelt down, grabbed the corner of the t-shirt, and fashioned a knot in the fabric to tighten the shirt on Lucy’s small frame. 

He winked at the girl. “See? Unlike the Big Bad Wolf over there,” he jerked a thumb in Derek’s direction, “Stiles has fashion sense.” 

Derek rolled his eyes and grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “Stiles is an idiot”. The way Lucy narrowed her eyes judgementally at him, Stiles figured it wasn’t far off.

And, really, was that anyway to treat the Guy With The Plan? Okay, so Stiles didn’t actually have a plan beyond getting Lucy some clothes and buying some groceries so the kid wouldn’t starve. But he would have a plan. Eventually. And Derek was going to appreciate it, dammit.

They drove – taking Derek’s Camaro because it had a backseat whereas Stiles’ Jeep did not and it was all about safety now - to the closet city with a mall and a _Justice for Girls_ store. Despite his obviously awesome fashion sense, Stiles didn’t have a clue what seven-year-old girls liked to wear these days – it was a given that Derek had even less of a clue – so at lunch he had casually asked Lydia where one might hypothetically go to buy clothes for a girl who was about six or seven. Lydia had given him a pointed, assessing look – Stiles absolutely did not cower under the scrutiny – then had ‘hypothetically’ told him to go to this _Justice_ store, informing him that there was one at the mall in the next city.

Stiles tried not to gape at Derek who stood outside the changing rooms, his arms full of clothes on hangers, waiting patiently as Lucy tried on pants and shirts and dresses. He couldn’t help but think the werewolf looked ridiculously adorable, dressed in his usual all-black attire, against a backdrop of a neon rainbow of girls’ clothing. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture, capturing the impressive scowl Derek gave him. Stiles looked at the picture and grinned. It was awesome. In fact, it was so awesome that he thought he might use it as the background wallpaper on his phone.

Forty-five minutes later, Lucy had picked the clothes she wanted. Derek dumped half the load into Stiles’ arms (which included the underwear, of course) and gestured for him to make their way to the sales counter. 

The purchase tallied up to nearly five hundred dollars. Derek didn’t even blink an eye before pulling out and handing the sales woman (who was totally checking him out and apparently liking what she saw, Stiles noticed) a plastic card with a bank logo.

“Dude, you have a _credit card_?”

“Yes,” Derek said flatly.

He really shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, Stiles had a credit card, although he was supposed to use it only in _emergency_ situations. But Derek? Derek was the sociopathic (okay, maybe that was a bit harsh), traumatized loner who lived in the creepy, crumbling shell of the home his family was burned alive in. Stiles wasn’t even sure that counted as a fixed address. He raised his eyebrows as if to ask ‘How’d you manage that?’

“I lived in New York for eight years,” Derek replied, “not _under a rock_. Went to _college_ even. Had a _job_.”

“Really?’ Stiles hadn’t thought much about what Derek had got up to when he and his sister had left Beacon Hills after the fire. “What did you major in?” he asked, trying to picture Derek milling around a college campus without images of stalking coming to mind.

“Art.”

Stiles blinked. _Art?_ Okay, so not what he had expected. He tried to picture Derek painting or drawing or sculpting. It was such a stretch of his imagination that it gave him a headache.

“And you had a _job_?” he asked, still reeling from the artist Derek revelation.

“Yes. In advertising,” Derek told him curtly. “I worked for an advertising company in the _art_ department.”

Jeez, there was no reason to be sarcastic, Stiles wanted to tell him. Except there probably was. But since Derek was far too adamant to be messing with him Stiles would have to accept that Derek had some hitherto unknown artistic abilities (that didn’t just involve making sure his hair was artfully tousled) that had yet to be revealed. 

Wait. Was artistic creativity a common characteristic of serial killers? he wondered. 

Stiles made a mental note to Google that. Right after he uploaded the pic of Derek scowling amidst the sea of neon girls’ clothing to Facebook. 

Yeah, Stiles was a badass shit.

Derek was hovering over him, practically breathing down his neck, which was a) doing ridiculous things to his libido and b) making him very nervous – neither one a feeling conducive to the task Stiles was trying to accomplish. So, Stiles mustered up every nerve to politely (and rather patiently, he thought, all things considered) tell Derek to “back off”.

The werewolf huffed and, really, what did _he_ have to huff about? It was Stiles who was doing all the hard (and illegal) work.

“Committing multiple acts of fraud here,” Stiles reminded.

“Yes. I know. And I appreciate that,” said Derek. He had backed away but Stiles could sense the impatience still lingering. “But do you think you could speed it up a bit?”

Stiles continued tapping on the keyboard, saying, “You _do_ know what happens to seventeen year old pretty boys like me in prison, right?” 

“You’re not gonna go to _prison_ , Stiles,” Derek told him, and Stiles spun around in the chair to see the werewolf rolling his eyes. Stiles cocked an eyebrow and watched as Derek’s mouth spread into a rare grin. “You’re only seventeen,” he reaffirmed. There was a glint in his eyes when he said further, “Though you are kind of pretty.” 

Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek was mocking him, teasing him, or backhandedly complimenting him, though he suspected it was some combination of the three. He was even less sure how he felt about that. He supposed there were worse things than Derek Hale thinking he was pretty.

They had come to the library to piggyback on its Internet connection so that Stiles could hack into a few government sites and modify some records in order to avoid raising suspicions or eliciting questions about Lucy’s relation to Derek. They had decided the cover story would be that Lucy was the product of an affair Peter had had before he was killed in the Hale house fire. Since Peter was supposed to be dead (and Stiles still wondered how they could push the reset button on that default state) and Lucy was about the right age, it made the most sense. Derek’s story was that a woman had dropped Lucy off, had told him the little girl’s father was Peter Hale and then had left. Derek didn’t know her name, where she came from, or where she went. But he believed that Lucy was his uncle Peter’s daughter. (Peter, of course, was amused by the fact that he’d apparently ‘fathered’ a werewolf girl in all probability while he was in a coma. His only comment concerning the whole fabricated story had been ‘I hope the mom was hot.’) Given the plausibility of the story, Stiles only had to alter a few records to establish Derek as Peter’s next of kin just in case someone decided to get nosey. They also hoped the slight alterations would divert Child Services from immediately stepping in.

Yes, Stiles was seventeen and would be considered a minor, and would probably be let off with a warning rather than jailed for committing fraud but, since he was the son of the town’s sheriff, he figured it was best not to call direct attention to himself by hacking from his home IP address. True, he was a part-time employee of the library and so the dots would likely be connected if anyone really wanted to connect them, but Stiles was sure (okay, he hoped) it wouldn’t come to that. 

Stiles had skills but he wasn’t a fly hacker so he had had to ask Danny for a little help on the best way to sneak in the backdoor of secured sites. He had presented the question in hypotheticals, of course, pretending that he was doing a paper on Internet security and the protection of personal information. Danny had raised an eyebrow (he and Stiles were in most of the same classes, which meant that Danny didn’t buy for a second that Stiles was writing such a paper) but had given him a pretty extensive description of how one might go about ‘hacking’ into secured sites. Danny hadn’t gotten a juvie record for hacking at the age of thirteen for nothing. 

When he grew tired of Derek huffing and hovering, Stiles sent him to help Lucy pick out a few books. 

“Pick out a couple for yourself too,” Stiles said, waving him away. “Reading is very relaxing.”

“I do _read_ , Stiles,” Derek said testily, stalking over to the kids’ books section and finally leaving Stiles to do the bidding of his dark side in peace. 

He added _Reads_ to his mental list of _Things I Didn’t Know About Derek Hale_.

Lucy and Derek returned fifteen minutes later when Stiles was finishing up, covering his tracks by at least deleting the browser history. It wouldn’t make much difference, he knew, but deleting his browser history had become habit since Stiles discovered online porn and somehow it made him feel better. 

“So whatcha pick, Lucy-girl?” Stiles asked, turning his attention now to the werewolf girl.

Lucy held up copies of _Nancy Clancy Super Sleuth_ and _The Adventures of Captain Underpants_. Both of the books were ‘Stiles’ Picks’ for 6-8 year old readers. 

“Good choices,” Stiles told her.

Lucy grinned. “Derek picked yours too.”

A light blush dusted over Derek’s cheekbones. Stiles saw that he was holding a copy of Gaiman’s latest book and a book Stiles had thought an interesting read called _The Bookman’s Tale_. 

“Also good choices,” Stiles said, giving Derek a wink. He didn’t think it was possible, but the blush on Derek’s cheekbones actually deepened. It was the most fascinating thing Stiles had ever seen. 

“Okay,” Stiles said loudly, forcing himself to look away from Derek and his adorable blush. Mrs. Denvers, the librarian, looked at him sharply and Stiles waved at her. “Let’s get these books checked out on my library card.” He was already pulling the card from his wallet. “Then our next step is to figure out what we need to do to get Lucy registered for school.”

He clapped his hands together then held them up when Mrs. Denvers shot him another look. 

He was Stiles Stilinski, The Plan Master. Sometimes he got a little carried away with his own congratulatory self-appreciation.

Stiles drove down the lane to the Hale house, catching sight of Derek on the edge of the woods, running, Lucy on his back. He slammed on the brakes, thinking they were in trouble, but he quickly saw no one was chasing them so Stiles figured Derek was just on his usual wolf-run, and was carting Lucy along for the ride. He continued up the drive to the house.

He got out of the Jeep just as Derek broke through the woods on the east side of the house. Stiles snuck an appreciating glance at Derek, telling himself that the alpha werewolf absolutely did not look hot in gray track pants and a black tank top, while carrying a seven year old were-girl on his back. Nope, that was not a hot thing. Not at all.

Derek dropped Lucy gently from his back and the little girl raced over to him, yelling, “ _Stiles!_ ”

“Hey Lucy-girl,” Stiles greeted, patting the little girl on the head while she squeezed the ever-loving life out of his middle. “You helping Derek do his wolfy exercises?”

“We ran through the woods!” she told him excitedly. “Well, Derek ran mostly,” she corrected. “But I got to ride on his back. It was fun!”

Stiles tried not to imagine what it would be like to ride on Derek’s back. Or, to ride on Derek’s _anything_. He quickly pushed the thought aside before he popped an awkward _something_ and got to the point of his visit.

“I narrowed it down to three,” Stiles told Derek, wiggling his phone out of his jeans pocket.

Derek frowned. “Narrowed _what_ down to three?”

“ _Apartments_ , Derek,” Stiles said, scrolling through his phone to pull up the listings he had marked and saved.

Derek’s eyebrows lifted.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Lucy can’t live _here_.” He gestured toward the Hale house ruins. “You need to get an apartment,” Stiles told him. “And a job.”

“Stiles, I don’t think--”

Stiles let out a sigh. “That’s the problem, Derek. You don’t think.” He waited a beat for Derek’s scowl to form then continued, “If you don’t want Child Services knocking on your bbq-ed door, you’re gonna have to get a better place to live. And you’re gonna have to be able to show some means of support.” Stiles had done some research. There were the two major requirements for people who intended to provide foster care: a stable place to live and employment. Derek would have no chance of keeping Lucy if he insisted on living in the burnt out shell of his family home and if he didn’t get an actual job.

Derek looked to consider this for a moment then said, “Okay.”

Okay, Stiles thought. This was progress. Derek was actually going to try and make this work. 

“Off we go to find an apartment then,” Stiles said. He waved a hand at Derek. “You might want to change into something less--”

Derek cocked an eyebrow.

“—sweaty,” he decided on. Because, Jesus, Derek would stop traffic if Stiles let him go out in those track pants and that tank top.

Derek scowled again and Lucy giggled.

Then again, Stiles thought, they might get a better deal on an apartment if Derek showed a little sweat-soaked skin.

Stiles honestly didn’t know which was worse. The fact that he and Derek were mistaken for a gay couple by the elderly owner of the first apartment they looked at or that Derek had gotten blatantly hit on by the owners of the last two.

Apartment Owner #3, a woman in her mid-fifties, was squeezing Derek’s bicep as she showed him – well, the three of them, but it was as if Stiles and Lucy weren’t even there – the second bedroom, cooing about some detail (Stiles had stopped listening after she had exhaled a breathy and suggestive ‘hello’ at Derek when she had first let them in to see the apartment), when Derek, apparently done with the touching and flirting, said abruptly, “We’ll take it.”

The woman gushed some more, squeezing Derek’s bicep even tighter. Stiles held a hand to his mouth to stifle a snicker as Derek pried the woman’s fingers from his arm, not even taking care to be gentle. Lucy stood with arms crossed, her expression set with a scowl that rivalled Derek’s, and eyed the woman coolly. Stiles allowed himself a chuckle to deflect from laughing outright at the seven-year-old obviously casting judgement on the woman’s inappropriate flirting. 

All hail Lucy, Protector of the Alpha. 

Stiles could totally get behind that.

The apartment was nice enough at least. It was clean, had two bedrooms, a small kitchenette, and an okay-sized living room. It wasn’t the nicest apartment in Beacon Hills but it classified as a stable place to live and that was all that mattered. 

Stiles helped Derek ‘move in’ the next weekend, moving in consisting of throwing a mattress down on the floor of one bedroom – Derek’s room – and setting up a twin bed set and dresser in the other – Lucy’s room. Derek mumbled something about getting a couch or chair later for the living room, which Stiles expressed would be a good idea, although he did insist that Derek pick up a set of dishes, some utensils, and a couple pots and pans. They were werewolves, not cave dwellers. 

Stiles wisely kept his ideas for adding some accessories to the dull décor to himself and stuck to presenting Derek with a microwave as an apartment-warming gift (he secretly planned on sneaking in a little color and maybe some plants when Derek wasn’t looking, though). He let Lucy pick out her own bedding, which Stiles paid for using some of the money he had earned at his part-time job at the library, although buying both the microwave and the comforter set had meant Stiles had to go without gas money for a week (which meant that he had to beg Scott for a ride to school on the days Scott’s mom let him use her car or had to go along with his dad in the patrol car). Still, the smile on Lucy’s face (and the considerably muted constipated expression on Derek’s) produced by the gift-giving was totally worth it.

Step One of The Plan was complete. Derek was providing a stable home for Lucy.

Now all Derek had to do was get a job.

Stiles had agreed to take Lucy to school that morning because Derek had two interviews for potential jobs and Stiles figured the alpha werewolf could use some time to prepare. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in Derek’s ability to land a job. It was just that Derek wasn’t the most social or communicative guy on the planet and, to be fair, he had been out of the workforce for a while. (Stiles was still having trouble imagining Derek with a job in New York. In _marketing_. It blew the mind.)

Lucy let him into the apartment. Stiles found Derek in the tiny kitchen, apparently making pancakes for breakfast. Or, at least that’s what he was trying to do.

Derek was glaring at the pan on the stove like it had personally offended him, which in all likelihood it had considering it seemed to be conspiring with the batter against Derek’s efforts. Stiles tried not think how adorably endearing it was that Derek was attempting to make pancakes for Lucy. And not least because the alpha werewolf had managed to get batter all over himself in the process. There was batter on his cheek, in his hair, on the tip of his nose and on the front of his tank top.

Stiles really, really wanted to lick that batter off. But he figured that would probably garner him a punch to the face or quite possibly even a kick to the balls so instead he just filed the thought away in his fantasy folder for later.

He did, however, reach out with a finger to swipe at the batter that had somehow managed to find its way above Derek’s right eyebrow. “You got a little…”

Derek scowled at him but didn’t pull away (or punch him in the face so Stiles counted that as a win) and let Stiles wipe his brow clear. Feeling bold, Stiles gave Derek’s hip a nudge with his own, took the lifter out of Derek’s hand, and said, “Go get cleaned up. I can finish this.”

Never let it be said that Derek Hale gave up easily. His face worked its way through about five different expressions of stubborn insistence before it finally settled on begrudging resignation. Derek cast an irritated glare at the perfect golden side of the pancake Stiles had just flipped (really, it was all in the wrist) then stomped his way to the bathroom with a huff. 

Stiles grinned at Lucy as he slipped a pancake onto a plate and handed it to her. Lucy drowned the golden confection in maple syrup and gobbled it up, standing at the counter next to Stiles at the stove (Derek didn’t think there was a need for a table and chairs yet). She devoured two more of the pancakes Stiles made before Derek re-emerged, dressed in jeans and light blue button-down (which, wow, Stiles didn’t even know Derek owned anything but dark-coloured t-shirts), his face and hair now batter-free. 

“You make the best pancakes,” Lucy told Derek, licking maple syrup from her fingers. 

Stiles laughed as Derek’s eyebrows lifted. “Yes, he does, Lucy-girl,” he agreed.

Derek helped Lucy clean all the sticky from her hands and face. Then he surprised the hell out of Stiles when he produced a brush and then proceeded to braid Lucy’s curly dark hair into pigtails.

Stiles couldn’t help it. He stared and gaped. It was a work of art, truly.

“What,” Derek said, his tone more embarrassed than defensive. “I had two sisters.”

Stiles should have known that Derek would be a pro at doing hair given that the werewolf’s own was always perfect, as was the closely cropped and meticulously groomed beard he had going on lately.

Stiles’ heart absolutely did not skip a beat over Derek Hale braiding a seven-year-old girl’s hair. It didn’t. And if anyone dared to say otherwise, Stiles wasn’t afraid to call them a Big Fat Liar.

Stiles hitched Lucy’s backpack over his shoulder, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the playground where all the kids gathered in the mornings.

“You should kiss Derek,” the little girl said as Stiles toed the gate to the side yard open.

“W-what?” Stiles spluttered. Because first of all, seven year old giving him kissing advice? And second of all, _kiss Derek_?

Lucy bobbed her head. “I think he’d like it,” she said sagely. “My mommy and daddy kissed all the time. I thought it was yucky but my daddy liked it. He smiled a lot when mommy kissed him. I think Derek wants to smile too. So you should kiss him.”

It was hard to argue with the logic of a seven year old, especially when said seven year old made a hell of a lot of sense. Derek did need to smile more. But Stiles doubted planting a kiss on the big guy would get his frown to turn upside down. In fact, Stiles was pretty sure it would lead to a deep scowl and some angry eyebrows. And quite possibly threats of death. 

“I’m not sure Derek wants _me_ to kiss him, Lucy-girl,” Stiles countered, not wanting to dispel Lucy’s idea but not wanting to encourage it either.

Lucy looked up at him with those aqua-blues. “He does,” she said before letting go of Stiles’ hand and skipping off to join the other kids.

Stiles let his mouth gape, goggling.

Wait. What?

So kid, you wanna tell why you’ve been hanging around _Derek Hale_ so much lately?” his dad asked, shoving a forkful of dinner into his mouth.

“Um, I have?” Stiles remarked casually, his brain already thinking up possible stories to tell his dad. When had it become his life that he needed to come up with stories to tell his dad? Oh right, when Scott got bitten by Peter Hale, the psychotic power-hungry alpha who was now just a crazy-ass beta werewolf everyone thought was dead.

“My deputies said they’ve seen you with Hale – _multiple times_ – at the grocery store and the _Laundromat_.” Sheriff Stilinski frowned. “And apparently, you’ve been skipping lacrosse practice and swinging by Beacon Hills Elementary after school?” his dad continued. “Son, I don’t think I need to tell you tha--”

“Dad, whoa,” Stiles interrupted because his dad had stopped eating and was pointing his fork assertively at Stiles and that was never a good sign. “Uh, remember how Peter Hale’s long-lost daughter got dumped on Derek’s doorstep a few weeks ago?” Stiles said. It couldn’t hurt to reaffirm the story. His dad nodded. “Yeah, well Derek’s having a tough go with it. So I’m helping him.”

His dad raised an eyebrow. “ _You’re_ helping him?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yes.” And, really, Stiles was pretty good at the whole ‘big brother’ thing, especially given that he was an only child. His dad should have more faith in him.

His dad considered him for a moment then said, “Alright, then.” He scooped up another helping of mashed potatoes and raised the fork to his mouth. “Just so long as it doesn’t interfere with your school work or your grades,” he cautioned then resumed eating.

Stiles breathed an internal sigh of relief. Really, he didn’t even know how he managed to get his homework done or how he was able to maintain a nearly straight A average in school these days. Because, honestly, his life was seriously fucked up.

Derek didn’t get either of the jobs he’d been interviewed for.

“It’s okay,” Stiles told him. “I’ll ask around. We’ll find something. It’s just a momentary setback,” he assured.

Derek’s jaw was clenched tight. His whole body was tense and his mood edgy. Stiles understood why. And it had little to do with not landing a job yet.

It was the eve of a full moon and both Stiles and Derek were waiting to see how it would affect Lucy.

Derek tried to recollect his own experiences as a young werewolf on a full moon. He had turned, for sure, but he explained that young werewolves were generally not mature enough to be in danger of losing control. This was mostly because they had pack to keep them anchored. Derek had had his own family to keep him anchored when he was seven whereas Lucy…

“You’re her alpha now,” Stiles reminded. “You’ll keep her anchored.”

Derek nodded but he didn’t look very reassured.

The growling and wailing and thrashing started at midnight and didn’t stop until the sun came up at 7:08 in the morning. 

Stiles stayed the entire time, thankful that his dad was working a double shift (because a full moon equalled crazies, even if most people didn’t know the half of it). Derek had held Lucy to keep her under control as well as to comfort her. The little girl had wailed about the murder of her parents and had thrashed violently as she fought against shifting.

Derek didn’t once let go. Not even when Lucy screamed “I hate you!” at him or when she clawed at his face, neck and chest. Stiles felt completely helpless, not knowing what to do, except for just be there for Lucy and for Derek.

When it was all over, the three of them were exhausted, Lucy and Stiles most of all, although Derek looked like he’d been beaten into the ground. Lucy lay limp in Derek’s arms, her face drawn and pale. She lifted a weak hand to touch Derek’s face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and Stiles thought his heart would break.

Derek smiled down at the little werewolf girl and Stiles did feel his heart break then. “I know, Lucy-girl,” Derek said. “I know.”

Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face, surreptitiously brushing his tears away. He hoped Derek wouldn’t notice.

Still, there was one thing the full moon ordeal had made clear: Derek needed to get a job. It was too much of a risk for Child Services to intervene, to place Lucy in foster care with a human family. 

Derek was Lucy’s alpha now, her anchor. And that meant they needed to make sure Lucy stayed with Derek.

It was in the locker room after practice when they were getting changed that Stiles decided he would ask Scott.

“Can you please just ask Deaton if there’s any work Derek can do at the clinic?”

Scott gave him a look. “No,” he told Stiles bluntly.

“ _No_?” Really, how could that be Scott’s answer?

“No,” Scott repeated. “There’s no way I’m doing any favours for Derek Hale.”

“Come on, you helped _Isaac_ get a job,” Stiles pointed out.

“Yeah, but that was Isaac.” Scott made a face. “Derek is--”

“—a fellow Beacon Hills citizen down on his luck who needs a job?” Stiles finished hopefully.

Scott’s eyebrows shot up. “Down on his luck?” he said, his eyes goggling incredulously. “Dude, do you even hear what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” replied Stiles sternly. He crossed his arms against his chest. “I’m saying you’re an asshole who won’t help a friend out.”

Scott’s face turned pinched at the slander. “Derek isn’t a friend,” he stated.

The ‘friend’ Stiles had been referring to was _Stiles_ not Derek but he wrote it off as just one more Scott-kick to the gut that seemed to be happening of late.

He and Scott were still best friends but their relationship had become strained over the past few months. Scott was angry over his break-up with Allison and nothing Stiles said or did seemed to help any. Scott’s default response had simply become, “You don’t understand.” 

“You’d help Allison’s werewolf hunting family before you’d help him, wouldn’t you?” Stiles accused meanly. Because Stiles was angry now. At Scott and everyone else who wouldn’t give Derek the benefit of the doubt, who couldn’t see past his alpha werewolf failings and understand that he was trying to make up for his failures, trying to be a better leader.

Scott opened his mouth to speak but Stiles quickly cut him off. “You know what? Forget it,” he told him, pulling a clean shirt on. “I’ll see if _Danny_ knows of anything. At least _he_ doesn’t have a grudge against brooding-with-very-good-reason werewolves.”

“What, so you’re defending _Derek_ now?” Scott all but accused, looking at Stiles as if he had grown two heads. Maybe he had.

“No, I’m not defending him,” Stiles returned, though he kind of actually was. “I’m just saying he’s not the horrible guy everyone’s always making him out to be.”

“Why?” Scott asked. “Because he took in a little orphaned werewolf girl?” Stiles could see Scott struggling to reconcile his view of Derek with the one Stiles was presenting to him.

“Dude, his pack has pretty much abandoned him--” 

“Yeah, because Derek’s a dick alpha who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing!”

Stiles was willing to concede Scott’s point – well, except for the ‘dick’ part. He may have thought that about Derek Hale at some point but not anymore.

“And now you’re _trusting_ him,” Scott continued, “Trusting him not to fuck up some little girl’s life like he’s fucked up the rest of ours?”

It was totally unfair what Scott was saying. Derek was not wholly responsible for the shit that went down in all of their lives. Isaac, Erica, Boyd, Jackson, Lydia, Scott, and even Stiles had to take some of the responsibility. He didn’t tell Scott this, though. Instead, he said, “Derek _needs_ this. He needs a pack. He needs Lucy.” Stiles flicked at glance at his best friend. “He needs _me_.”

Scott raised his eyebrows. Stiles knew Scott hadn’t been expecting that. “You’re not his pack, Stiles.”

“Yeah, well, I’m what he’s got so it’ll just have to do.” Stiles ran a hand through his hair, leaving unspoken that at least _Derek_ seemed to appreciate him.

Scott looked at him for a long moment before shaking his head and saying, “I hope you know what you’re doing.” He banged the door of his locker shut then left Stiles alone in the locker room.

Stiles hoped he knew what he was doing too.

Luckily, Danny did know of something and Derek was able to land a job. It was work in a warehouse, loading and unloading delivery trucks. The pay was decent and the physical labour was easy for Derek with his werewolf strength. The only problem was that Derek had to work weekdays from seven to seven, which meant that Stiles had to help Lucy get ready in the mornings and take her to school as well as pick her up in the afternoons then make dinner and help her get ready for bed.

Stiles knew Derek felt bad about this and had even offered to pay Stiles now that he was working but Stiles waved away Derek’s offer, telling him he’d rather Derek use the money to buy a couch.

Derek not only bought a couch but he had sprung for a coffee table too, and this was where Stiles started doing his homework with Lucy either doing homework of her own or drawing and coloring pictures, while something baked in the oven or simmered in a pot on the stove in the background.

Stiles was eight pages into a ten page essay for history that discussed the injustices of the Salem Witch Trial (Derek had informed him that witches were, in fact, real but had insisted that none of the women executed in Salem, save for a very few, had been actual witches who could cast spells and do some damage), the smell of a chicken and broccoli casserole baking wafting in from the kitchenette. He’d package up some for his dad and drop it off at the station on his way home later and save the rest for Derek, whose skills in the kitchen were still somewhat lacking.

Lucy was coloring fiercely, her brows pinched together in concentration, her tongue peeking out from between her lips. Stiles could understand that. His own tongue was sliding through and licking over his lips as he typed.

When she was done, Lucy slid the paper with her artwork across the coffee table. Stiles saved the document he was working on and then picked up Lucy’s art, narrowing his eyes and scrunching his face as if critically assessing the work.

It was a color drawing of trees that Stiles guessed was meant to represent the woods. Lucy had drawn two wolves – one black, with suspiciously familiar eyebrows, and one brown with eyes the color of aqua-blue. There was a boy, too, in a red hoodie, walking alongside the wolves. A warmth spread through Stiles’ chest.

“What’s this?” Stiles asked, pointing to some squiggles inside a box Lucy had drawn next to the boy’s head.

“That’s you talking,” Lucy told him. 

Stiles tipped his head back and laughed. “Ah, that would explain why wolf!Derek’s eyebrows look scrunched,” he said, giving Lucy a wink. “Like he’s annoyed.”

Lucy bobbed her head knowingly.

“Let’s go tack this up on the fridge,” Stiles said, getting up from the couch, Lucy’s artwork in his hand. “This way Derek’ll see it.”

Lucy followed him to the tiny kitchen. She plucked a magnet from the fridge and pointed to a spot in the center of the freezer door. Stiles help up the drawing and Lucy secured the magnet onto it, Stiles helping to slide it up to the very top.

Stiles and Lucy had already eaten (a Tupperware container of the casserole set aside for Stiles’ dad ready to go) when Derek came home from work. Lucy pulled Derek excitedly toward the kitchenette and showed him her artwork.

“That’s you,” she informed Derek, pointing to the black wolf.

“With annoyed eyebrows,” Stiles added with a wink and a smirk.

Derek gave Stiles a look. “Obviously,” he said, a hint of a grin on his lips. He tapped his finger at the boy in the red hoodie. “Because you’re _talking_.”

Stiles looked at him crossly and Derek grinned. This sent Lucy into a fit of giggles. Derek had to pick her up and physically carry her to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

“Night, Stiles,” Lucy called from the hallway between giggles.

“Night, Lucy,” he returned.

“Thank you, Stiles,” he heard Derek say.

Stiles smiled. Helping Derek take care of Lucy was hard work but it was really nice to be appreciated.

Derek hadn’t been able to get the time off work to attend the interview with Lucy’s teacher. So Stiles suggested that he attend on Derek’s behalf. He had to pick up Lucy from school anyway and it wasn’t like it would take more than twenty minutes to a half hour. Besides, Stiles had ten years of parent-teacher interview experience. Granted, it was always his dad (and before that, his mom) on the ‘parent’ side of the interview but Stiles was certain he could wing it. He totally had this, even if Mr. Broody McBroody werewolf was sceptical. Derek didn’t have any other choice.

“Mr. Hale?” Mrs. Baxter, Lucy’s second grade teacher, greeted, the question clear in her tone.

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, it’s Mr., uh, Stilinski,” he told her. “I’m here on Dere--Mr. Hale’s behalf? Unfortunately, he’s stuck at work.”

Lucy’s teacher raised an eyebrow but motioned toward one of the little chairs at one of the little tables. Stiles tried to imagine Derek sitting in a kid-sized chair and had to hold back a laugh.

Mrs. Baxter smiled kindly at Lucy and said, “Lucy, why don’t you go and play at one of the centers while I talk to Mr. Stilinski?” 

“Stiles.”

The teacher gave him a look. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s my name,” Stiles clarified. “Stiles. You can call me Stiles.” Mr. Stilinski made him sound old or like he was impersonating his father. Or, that he was in _trouble_ because his teachers always pulled the “Mr. Stilinski” card right before he got detention.

“You’re the one who usually picks up Lucy after school,” Mrs. Baxter commented.

“Yeah,” Stiles replied. “I mean, yes.” He was aiming to sound like an adult here, even if he didn’t want to sound like an _old_ adult. He usually saw Mrs. Baxter when he picked Lucy up from school and always gave her a wave. 

“And what exactly is your relation to Mr. Hale, Lucy’s guardian?” she questioned.

“Uh…boyfriend?” Stiles said on a whim then cursed inwardly. 

His intention had been good at least. Stiles didn’t want Mrs. Baxter to think Lucy had an unstable home life by calling attention to Derek’s general instability as a creepy loner but now Stiles questioned the wisdom of implying that Derek was in a relationship with a teenager. With any luck, however, Mrs. Baxter would peg him as college age instead of a high schooler, although the raised eyebrow she gave him said she pegged him as the seventeen year old he was. Damn.

“It would really be better if Mr. Hale were here--”

“Oh hey, you know what? We could call him and I can put him on speaker phone?” Stiles offered, pulling his cell phone from the pocket of his jeans. “This way he can be part of the discussion and I can just take notes for him or something.”

Mrs. Baxter nodded, indicating that she was agreeable to calling Derek and communicating with him through Stiles’ phone. Stiles was worried about bothering Derek at work (his boss seemed like a hard-ass) but there really wasn’t much he could do. 

Derek’s voice was gruff when he picked up.

“Hello, Mr. Hale,” the teacher cut in quickly. “I’m Mrs. Baxter, Lucy’s teacher. Stiles said we could put you on speaker phone so we could discuss Lucy’s progress.”

“ _Heeyy_ , Derek,” Stiles chimed in, wanting to head off the possibility that this might quickly turn into a disaster, especially since he’d lied about his relationship with Derek. “It’s Stiles. You know, your significant other?” Stiles tried not to cough on the words. “Hi. Um, sweetie,” he tacked on while giving Mrs. Baxter his best shit-eating grin. Like he’d said, he had experience dealing with teachers.

“My what?” came Derek’s question and Stiles bristled over the fact that Derek sounded slightly offended. Stiles was a Grade A catch. At the very least Grade B. Derek would be lucky – no, he would be _damn_ lucky – to land Stiles as a boyfriend.

“He prefers the term ‘partner’,” Stiles whispered to Mrs. Baxter, knowing that Derek could hear him.

A loud sigh came across the line. “Yes, Stiles is my _partner_ ,” Derek said through what Stiles was sure were gritted teeth. It was kind of hurtful, to be honest. Stiles was only trying to help.

Mrs. Baxter ignored the banter then proceeded to tell Derek how Lucy was adapting and progressing in the classroom, her tidbits of information acknowledged by an occasional grunt or sigh. Lucy was adapting reasonably well, although Mrs. Baxter did suggest that Lucy could use some encouragement in moving outside of her comfort zone when interacting with her classmates. All things considered, such as Lucy losing her parents and having Derek the King of Communication Fail as her alpha, Stiles thought Lucy was doing pretty well. This made him beam like a proud father. Okay, more like a proud older brother but he was still beaming.

“He’s not really vocally communicative, is he?” the teacher commented after the call ended.

“Yeah,” Stiles said resignedly then waved his hand. “After a while, though, you learn how to interpret his grunts and growls and eyebrow expressions.”

Mrs. Baxter raised her own eyebrows at that then frowned. “I am just concerned that Lucy may not be getting the right kind of interactive stimulation she needs at home,” she said.

Stiles leaned forward in the little chair. “You really don’t have to worry,” he told her, wanting to nip the teacher’s concerns in the bud. “Derek may not be the most vocal or social guy out there, but Lucy gets him. And he gets Lucy. Besides,” he said, now leaning back in the chair. “They got me. And, trust me, I do enough talking for the both of them.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” Mrs. Baxter said dryly, but Stiles saw her lips tilt up in amusement. 

He hoped it was enough to head her off at the pass. It really wouldn’t be good for Derek and Lucy if Lucy’s teacher expressed her concerns about Derek’s social failings to the school principal or other authorities.

Stiles really didn’t expect to see Scott with Allison at the Beacon Hills Fall Fest. He certainly hadn’t expected Scott to actually be _civil_ to Derek, although it had been a given that Scott would fall in love with Lucy almost immediately.

“I like Stiles’ friend. He’s fun!” Lucy squealed from atop Derek’s shoulders as they weaved their way through the fairgrounds.

It was like Stiles had said – Scott was a great big giant kid (or a big giant puppy) and it was impossible for anyone (even Derek) not to like him. Stiles had raised an eyebrow at his best friend that he knew Scott would understood was in relation to Allison and Scott had returned a similar eyebrow raise that Stiles had understood meant ‘Tell you later’. 

Stiles was glad most of the tension had eased between them. He hated when he and Scott were in a tiff. Stiles understood Scott’s reluctance to accept Derek as his alpha, especially given the shit storm that had transpired over the past year. But Scott also had to realize that Derek wasn’t a bad guy (certainly not the bad guy) and that Derek, like Scott, was learning as he went along.

It turned out that Derek was a master at the ring toss, although his superior wolfy hand-eye coordination hadn’t hurt. He won enough games for Lucy to pick out a prize. Not surprisingly, Lucy chose the stuffed wolf.

Stiles so loved irony.

When Stiles got to the school he was told that Lucy had been sent to the principal’s office. He rushed down the corridor, texting Derek as he went, and tried not to worry.

Lucy was sitting on a bench in the outer office, hands in her lap, her gaze on the floor. A boy Lucy’s age was there also, set a little ways away from her, being fussed over by his parents and the school nurse. From what Stiles could see, the boy had a bloody nose and a fat lip.

“Hey Lucy-girl,” Stiles said, getting down to crouch in front of her. “What’s up?”

Lucy looked up, her aqua-blue eyes brimming with tears. “I hit Ben,” she told him. 

“Okay,” he said, glad that Lucy was at least owning up to what she had done. It had taken Stiles a lot longer to learn that lesson when he was Lucy’s age. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt him, Stiles,” Lucy said, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “But he was picking on Lukas. And he wouldn’t stop even when I asked him _nicely_.”

“I believe you,” Stiles reassured her. He put a finger under Lucy’s chin and tipped her face up to look at him. “But you gotta remember, Lucy-girl, that you’ve got a bit of an advantage over kids like Ben.”

Lucy leaned in and whispered. “You mean ‘cause I’m a werewolf?”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles whispered back with a chuckle. “Plus, you see Ben’s parent’s there?” He tilted his head in the direction of Mr. and Mrs. Went to an Ivy League School and Probably Had Two Point Two Kids. Lucy scrunched her nose at him in question. “There’s no _way_ Soccer Mom and Dad can glare and growl as awesomely as Derek.”

As if right on cue, Derek stormed into the outer office, casting his patented glare around and growling, “ _What. Happened._ ”

Principal Matthews stepped out from her office and gestured at Ben’s parents and Derek to come inside. Derek huffed and gave Stiles a look, which Stiles interpreted to mean he should follow so he left Lucy in the care of Ms. Porter, the secretary, and quickly trotted after the alpha werewolf.

They settled in the principal’s office, Ben’s parents taking up the guest chairs, Derek and Stiles leaning against the wall to the side. Principal Matthews settled behind her desk then surveyed the adults gathered. She glanced pointedly at Stiles and frowned.

“I really think it would be best for this conference to include just the parents and the guardian--”

“He stays,” Derek rumbled, his tone making it clear that Stiles’ presence was not up for negotiation. Stiles tried not to feel too smug at Derek’s gruff insistence. 

Ben’s mother opened her mouth, probably to protest, but Principal Matthews made a gesture, saying, “It’s okay, Felicia.” The use of the woman’s first name by the principal made Stiles think it was highly likely that Ben’s mother was a prominent member of the PTA. He rolled his eyes. It figured. 

Principal Matthews cast a glance around to all of them then said, “I asked for this meeting to discuss what happened today between Lucy and Ben. My understanding is that an altercation occurred on the playground at recess that ended with a minor injury to Ben--”

“That little girl is a menace!” Ben’s mother shouted.

“Felicia, I understand that you’re upset--” Principal Matthews said, trying to rein the woman’s hysteria in.

“She punched my little Ben and gave him a bloody nose!”

“I’m not sure that’s exactly what happe--” the principal tried again.

“Clearly, she’s being raised by a man,” she gave Derek a sour look, “who doesn’t know the first thing about being a father! And she’s being influenced by this _teenager_ ,” the sour look now settled onto Stiles, “who seems to think playing house with another man is all fun and games.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stiles interrupted, not liking where Felicia was going. She might as well have just said Lucy was being raised by _wolves_ , for all the irony there was to that notion. “First of all,” he said, pushing himself off the wall and moving closer to the woman seated, “you have no right to talk about Lucy like that. Little Ben, that sweet and precious son you think you’ve got? Yeah, he was _bullying_ another kid and Lucy was just trying to protect him. And second? Derek may not be a contender for Dad of the Year Award but at least he knows how to raise Lucy right. To stick up for others and not take any _bullshit_ from kids like little Benny who think it’s okay to bully his classmates.”

“How _dare_ you--” Felicia’s face was red with anger and for a moment Stiles thought she was going to get out of her chair and punch him. Stiles almost hoped she did. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to some _kid_ tell me--”

Principal Matthews raised her hands. “Felicia, Mr. Stilinski,” she said firmly in an attempt to intervene.

But Stiles wasn’t done. “You hear that, Felicia? _Stilinski._ As in _Sheriff_ Stilinski.” Stiles clicked his tongue. “Yeah, in case you didn’t know, I’m his son.” He let that little tidbit sink in. “And you know what? That man raised me right. He raised me not to be a bully and to stick up for my friends and family. Just like Derek is teaching Lucy. Maybe you could learn a thing from him.”

Ben’s mother was outraged. She turned to her husband to seek support but Ben’s dad looked like he wanted to crawl under his chair. Stiles couldn’t help but smile smugly at that.  
Clearly exasperated, Principal Matthews looked to Derek, who had yet to say anything beyond insisting that Stiles stay. “Mr. Hale?” 

“We’re done here,” Derek said curtly, pushing off the wall and heading for the door. 

Stiles didn’t wait for the engraved invitation. He followed on Derek’s heels.

Lucy launched herself at Derek when he came out of the principal’s office and the alpha scooped her up into his arms. Lucy buried her head in his neck and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Lucy-girl,” Derek told her. “You were protecting a friend.” He cast a glance at Stiles. “It’s what you’re supposed to do.”

Derek washed and Stiles dried while Lucy brushed her teeth and got ready for bed.

“Did you mean it?” Derek asked, passing the last plate to Stiles. “Do you really think I’m raising Lucy right?”

Stiles dried the plate and stacked it with the others in the cupboard. He slung the towel over his shoulder and gave Derek a serious look. “Yeah,” he said. “I think you’re doing a great job, Derek.”

Before he really had time to think about it, Stiles leaned into Derek’s space and touched his lips to the alpha’s. As far as kisses went, it was relatively chaste, just a pressing of mouths together, the making of a connection.

A little hand tugged at Derek’s t-shirt. “Derek?” said Lucy. “When you’re done kissing Stiles, can you ask him if he’ll read me a story?”

Stiles snorted, pulling his mouth away from Derek’s. 

Derek’s mouth screwed up in a half-grin then he smiled down at Lucy – and, man, that was a sight Stiles would like to see forever– and said, “Why don’t you ask Stiles yourself?”

Lucy looked up at Stiles with those beautiful eyes and Stiles was quickly reduced to a puddle of absolute mush. “Can you read me a story, Stiles?” she asked. “I like it when you read me stories. You make fun sounds and use different voices.” She cupped a hand to her mouth and whispered conspiratorially, “All Derek does is _read_.” 

Derek and Stiles both chuckled. “Sure thing, Lucy-girl,” Stiles said.

Stiles let Lucy choose the book. She settled under the covers with the stuffed wolf Derek had won for her tucked into her body and Stiles read to her, changing voices for each character and making the funny sounds he knew Lucy liked. 

When he was done, he brushed a kiss across Lucy’s forehead and set the book onto the nightstand. 

“You made Derek smile,” Lucy said, giving Stiles a smile of her own.

“I did,” Stiles said. And it was amazing, he thought.

“I hope he keeps smiling,” the little girl said, putting hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn.

“Me too,” Stiles told her, clicking off the bedside lamp and moving toward the door.

“Night, Stiles.”

“Night, Lucy-girl.”

Stiles considered staying longer, so that maybe he and Derek could pick up where they had left off in the kitchen, but decided that it would be better to take things slow and to keep it light. Derek did not have the best track record as far as relationships went and Stiles basically had zero experience in that same department. If something was going to develop between them, Stiles wanted it to happen at its own pace, a pace that both he and Derek were comfortable with.

At the door, when Stiles was leaving, Derek said, “She was wrong, you know.” Stiles drew his eyebrows together, not understanding. “Ben’s mother,” Derek clarified. “You’re not some kid, Stiles. And you’re not just playing house. You’re good at this. You’re good with Lucy. And…thank you. Thank you for helping me. I would’ve really sucked at this on my own.”

Then Derek did something that completely surprised Stiles. He brushed a thumb over Stiles’ cheekbone then pecked a soft kiss on the skin there. 

Stiles lifted a hand to his cheek as he made his way to the elevator, the spot where Derek’s lips had touched still warm.

Yeah. Stiles could really get used to Derek Hale’s kind of thank yous.

Derek had to leave work three more times because of ‘incidents’ at Lucy’s school. It seemed that every time little Ben got himself into a scrape, his mother was quick to point the finger at Lucy. And she had expressly insisted that Stiles be banned from any and all meetings that took place. Since Derek was Lucy’s ‘legal’ guardian, Principal Matthews had no choice but to concede to the president of the PTA mom’s demands. Stiles supposed it was the price they all had to pay for his inability to keep his mouth shut, whether he had been justified in sounding off or not.

“I don’t know what to do, Stiles,” Derek said after he had returned from a meeting with Principal Matthews in which Lucy had been accused of ‘stealing’ money from precious little Ben’s backpack. Stiles secretly wished Lucy had actually kicked the kid in the shins, even if (sigh) violence was never the answer. “Mr. Larmay said if I have to leave work one more time, family emergency or not, he’s going to have to let me go.”

Mr. Larmay was Derek’s boss. He was a fifty-something year old bachelor who had no sympathy for his employees. Stiles had no doubt Larmay would cut Derek loose if he thought it was necessary. Derek needed his job, so this wasn’t exactly an option.

“Look,” Stiles said. “I could go next time if Lucy gets blamed for something else she hasn’t even done--”

Derek shot him a look. “I’m Lucy’s guardian, Stiles. And we both know _Felicia_ would have a _conniption_ if you so much as set foot near--” He broke off, looking frustrated and angry. 

Stiles wanted to tease Derek about being on a first name basis with Ben’s mother now but the look of Derek’s eyebrows told him he had better not push it. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Sorry about that. My mouth, you know. It kind of runs on its own sometimes.”

Stiles had expected Derek to make some growly reply about his quick temper and tendency to mouth off. Instead, he found Derek’s eyes on his mouth. He seemed to give Stiles’ lips a thorough assessment before snapping his gaze up, a light blush dusting his cheekbones.

“There’s nothing wrong with your mouth,” Derek mumbled. He conveniently stalked off to the kitchen before Stiles could even wonder what the hell that was supposed to mean.

It was barely a week later when Stiles found out from his dad that Child Services had taken Lucy into its protection and would be placing her, for the time being, in foster care.

“They can’t do that!” Stiles protested.

“It’s for the best, Stiles,” his dad said calmly. Too calmly for Stiles’ liking.

“For who?”

The sheriff flicked a look of surprise at his son as he twisted the cap off his after-shift beer. Stiles was aware he was shouting but he really needed to make a point here.

“For both Lucy _and_ Derek,” his dad said, lifting the bottle to his lips.

“She belongs with Derek, Dad,” he appealed stubbornly. Derek was Lucy’s pack. Her only family now.

His dad frowned. “Derek is a single twenty-four year old with a minimum-wage job and a barely furnished apartment--”

“He’ll get a better job,” Stiles interjected. “And more furniture.”

“And need I remind you, Stiles, that he was taken into custody for suspicion of mur--”

“He was innocent!” Stiles shouted. 

His dad took another pull from the bottle, a tactic meant to draw away from the heated discussion so as to return to it with calmer focus. “Okay, granted, that might be,” he said. “But there have been reports made that suggest Lucy would be better off in foster care away from Derek’s influence for a little while--”

“Reports? What reports? You mean by Principal Matthews? Or that kid Ben’s mother who hates Lucy? Or Lucy’s teacher who thinks Derek is a bad role model because he has difficulty communicating verbally?” The look on his dad’s face told Stiles that he’d hit every mark. Stiles rolled his eyes and shouted angrily, “They don’t know what the hell they’re talking about!” 

“It’s already done, Stiles,” his dad said patiently. 

“You’re the sheriff,” Stiles tried. “You could intervene on Derek’s behalf--”

His dad was shaking his head. “I’m not convinced that would be best,” he said.

“Please, Dad,” Stiles pleaded. “Lucy needs to stay with Derek. Please. You need to trust me on this.”

His dad looked at him for a long moment. “I’m sorry, son,” the sheriff said as though the words pained him. “I just can’t.”

Derek’s apartment was unlocked and Stiles wasted no time letting himself inside. He found Derek on the floor in the corner of the sparse living room, knees drawn up to his chest, his face pale and vacant. Stiles had never seen Derek look so vulnerable and he felt his heart clench at the sight.

Stiles knelt on the carpet beside him. “Derek?” he said tentatively.

“They took her away, Stiles,” Derek said quietly. “They took her away from me.”

“I know, buddy. I know,” Stiles said. “But we’re gonna get her back, okay?”

“I can’t—I need--”

Stiles understood. It wasn’t just that Lucy needed Derek. Derek needed Lucy. The alpha had all but lost his pack. All except for Stiles who was not even a wolf. That Derek Hale was capable of providing not only guidance but love to a seven year old little werewolf girl and that he considered her his own, his family, would probably surprise most people. But it didn’t surprise Stiles. He had seen first hand the way Derek cared for Lucy. Derek may have been a bit of a broken werewolf and he might have sucked a little at being an alpha, but he was good at this. He was good at loving that little girl.

“We’ll get her back,” Stilies repeated, angling his head down to touch his mouth to Derek’s. “I promise,” he whispered against Derek’s lips before taking them more fully in a kiss.

Derek responded immediately, cupping the back of Stiles’ neck with his hand, crushing their mouths together. At first it was just hot, wet sliding of lips against lips. But Stiles soon felt Derek’s tongue poke against the seam of his mouth, demanding entry, and he parted his lips to let him in, allowing Derek to snake his tongue inside and to wind it with his. 

“Stiles...” Derek moaned into his mouth.

Stiles pulled his mouth away, leaning back to look at Derek. The werewolf’s eyes were dark, full of lust, _wanting_. It was all Stiles needed to see before he grabbed Derek by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Then he hooked his fingers with Derek’s and, without a word, led him toward the bedroom.

They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, mouths slotting together hotly.

“Stiles…” Derek moaned again, as Stiles pressed kisses to Derek’s jaw then neck, licking over the spots with his tongue as he went. 

He wanted to touch his mouth to every part of Derek’s body. He wanted to make Derek feel good so that the pain he was feeling would slide away under the pleasure. Stiles knew he lacked experience but he could do this. He sucked kisses into Derek’s neck, yanking the edge of his t-shirt up until Derek got the hint and pulled it off. Stiles spared a moment to appreciate Derek’s firm pectoral muscles and his stupid perfect abs before he set to work on covering every inch of Derek’s tantalizing torso with his mouth and tongue.

Derek didn’t resist when Stiles pulled at the waistband of his track pants and boxer briefs, pulling both down to reveal Derek’s beautiful, hard cock. Stiles didn’t even think about it. He just licked his lips then put his mouth over the tip, sucking the cockhead in.

He heard Derek gasp, his hips jolting up, the movement helping to propel his dick further into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles went with it, taking Derek in as deeply as he could without choking, moving his tongue around and sucking. Stiles had never given a blow job before (hell, he’d never gotten one either) so there was kind of a steep learning curve here, but his enthusiasm for the learning process was very strong.

He ignored how hard and aroused he was in favour of sucking down and licking around Derek’s beautiful cock. Stiles was so focused on trying to pleasure Derek that he couldn’t even think about touching himself to ease some of the pressure that was straining against the fabric of his pants.

Sharp gasps and breathy moans continued to come from Derek, which Stiles took as a good sign, but then suddenly Derek was saying, “Stiles. Stop. Please.”

Stiles pulled off with a pop and looked up at Derek with wide eyes. “What. Why? It’s not good?” 

All Stiles had wanted to do was make Derek feel good to temper the pain, and his goddamn inexperience had to go and fuck it all up.

“No, it’s--” Derek placed a hand on Stiles’ chin and drew Stiles up the length of his body. “It’s fucking _amazing_ ,” he said and Stiles couldn’t help noticing how breathless Derek sounded. “But I’m--” His green eyes met Stiles’ brown ones with intensity. “ _Fuck_ , I’m going to come down your throat in about ten seconds if you keep doing it.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

Derek gave a small smile, running his thumb over Stiles’ cheekbone. “If we’re going to do this,” he said, “I’d much rather we do it together.”

Wow. Okay. Yeah, Stiles could definitely get on board with that.

Derek helped Stiles get his pants down then shifted him onto the mattress so that he was on his side facing Derek. He grabbed Stiles’ wrist and guided his hand to their cocks, wrapping his palm and fingers around them both, encouraging him to stroke. Stiles slid his hand up and down, liking the feel of their cocks together, the friction created by the slide and pull of his hand sending jolts of pleasure through his body. When Stiles’ rhythm started to falter, Derek covered Stiles’ hand with his own, helping to bring them off.

Stiles came with a twitch and a shout, erupting warm and sticky over Derek’s cock and both their hands. Derek added his own mess to mix two seconds later. 

They turned over onto their backs and panted in tandem as they came down from the highs of orgasm. Derek used the sheet to wipe their collective spunk from the both of them then pulled Stiles into the curve of his body, cuddling him.

Stiles grinned into Derek’s shoulder. He never would have guessed Derek Hale was a cuddler but he was definitely not going to complain.

Brian and Melinda Campbell, Lucy’s foster parents, were gracious enough to let both Derek and Stiles visit Lucy at their home. They visited her every day, usually together, either when Lucy got home from school or after they had all had dinner (sometimes the Campbells invited Derek and Stiles to dinner with them and Lucy, which was nice).

Today, however, Stiles had asked Scott to come along to visit Lucy with him. Derek had an interview with the editor of The Beacon for a position as ad layout supervisor that Stiles had a really good feeling about. Besides, Stiles needed help with something and Scott was the best guy for the job.

“Stiles!” Lucy exclaimed from the doorway when she saw Scott and Stiles coming up the path. She bolted out of the door and practically catapulted herself into Stiles’ arms. Stiles managed to catch her and lifted her up.

“Whoa there, Lucy-girl,” he said, laughing. “Did you miss me or something?” He and Derek had just visited the day before.

Lucy wrapped her little arms around his neck and squeezed tight. “ _Yes!_ ” Lucy told him.

Stiles laughed again. God, it was nice to hear that. He tilted his head toward Scott. “You remember this guy, Lucy-girl?”

Lucy nodded, her eyes lighting up, a splotch of pink splashing across her cheeks. Stiles thought there was a very distinct possibility that Lucy had developed a seven-year-old crush on Stiles’ best friend. Which was understandable, really. Scott was an adorable puppy.

“Scott works at the animal clinic,” Stiles told Lucy. “He knows how to fix animals. So I’m thinking he’ll be able to fix Mr. Wolfy.”

Scott’s brows raised in question as Lucy’s eyes grew wide.

“Really?” the little girl said.

“Sure,” Stiles remarked, giving his best friend a wink.

Lucy led the two of them into the house then disappeared upstairs to her bedroom. She returned quickly, the stuffed wolf Derek had won for her clasped carefully in her hand. She held it out to Scott, pointing at the spot on the leg where a Batman bandaid had been placed (courtesy of Stiles, of course) to cover the hole that had been worn there.

“He’s got a boo-boo. Can you fix him?” Lucy asked hopefully.

Scott smiled at her. “I think I can,” he said. “Let’s see if Mrs. Campbell has a needle and some thread.”

‘Dr. Scott’, as Lucy kept calling him to Stiles’ amusement, managed to only pick himself twice while sewing up Mr. Wolfy’s ‘wound’. Scott narrowed his eyes at him when Stiles chuckled and, even though his skin healed over almost instantaneously, Scott still let Lucy put bandaids (Stiles had left her a stash of Batman ones) on both of his ‘injured’ fingers.

They played outside then, running around the backyard and playing tickle war (which Scott failed miserably at). When it was time to go, Lucy gave Stiles _and_ Scott a kiss on the cheek. She thanked Scott for fixing Mr. Wolfy and blew a kiss into her hand for Stiles to give to Derek.

When they were on the road in the Jeep, Scott looked over at Stiles and said, “You’re good with Lucy.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said. It meant a lot that Scott thought he was doing okay by the little werewolf girl.

“And you’re good with Derek too,” his best friend added.

Stiles lifted his eyebrows, shifting his gaze from the road to Scott then back again.

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Scott said. “You were right about Derek. I’ve seen him with Lucy and you can tell he really cares about her. She’s his pack.”

Stiles nodded. It was the one thing he knew absolutely.

“He really cares about you too,” Scott said. “And I think you two are good together.” Scott huffed out a laugh. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that.”

Stiles laughed with him. “I can’t believe you did either.”

They drove in silence for a stretch and then Scott said, “Thanks for letting me come today.”

“It was a medical emergency,” Stiles insisted. “I needed you.”

Scott gave him one of his ‘are you kidding?’ looks.

“Come on, I would have stabbed myself with the needle far more times than you did,” Stiles told him, which was embarrassingly true. “Besides, could you imagine _Derek_ playing Dr. Fix-It? He’s got a terrible bedside manner. He would have scowled and growled and scrunched his eyebrows the whole way through.”

“Yeah,” Scott said.

Both he and Stiles burst out laughing.

Derek had him pressed up against the door of the apartment, his mouth latched onto Stiles’ neck, pressing wet kisses into his skin and sucking bruises.

“God, Stiles,” Derek breathed into Stiles’ neck, nipping at his skin with his teeth. “We shouldn’t be doing this. You’re seventeen. If anyone found out--”

Stiles kissed Derek to silence him, winding his arms around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He knew Derek was right. But, holy God, he was _seventeen_ and horny as fuck. And Derek made it really, really hard not to want to ravish him or to be ravished.

Stiles let out a high-pitched squeak when Derek slid down his body and settled onto his knees on the floor. He tugged at the waistband of Stiles’ jeans, pulling free the button and splitting open the zipper. Derek slid his hands into Stiles’ pants, pushing the denim and Stiles’ boxers over his hips, letting Stiles’ erection pop free.

Derek planted his big hands on Stiles’ ass cheeks, squeezing the flesh, yanking Stiles’ hips forward. He darted his tongue out, licking slowly from base to tip. Then he took Stiles into his mouth, screwing his lips down the shaft until Stiles felt his cockhead hit the back of Derek’s throat.

“Fuuuuck,” Stiles expressed, unable to form anything more coherent than that. His head slammed back against the door with a thud.

Stiles kept his head tilted back and his eyes squeezed shut, refusing to look down at Derek who was sucking every last one of Stiles’ functioning brain cells out through his member. He was trying hard not to buck into Derek’s mouth but he wasn’t doing a very good job at it. It didn’t help that Derek, the prick, was pulling Stiles forward, his large hands on his bare ass cheeks, encouraging Stiles to fuck deeper into his mouth.

Jesus fucking Christ.

When he hit his peak, Stiles didn’t so much as ejaculate as he _exploded_ into Derek’s mouth, on his tongue, and down his throat. His orgasm held such force that it momentarily blinded him and he was only peripherally aware that Derek continued to suck him through the pleasure waves and the subsequent crash.

It was when he saw Derek reach for his own rock hard but so far neglected cock that Stiles snapped out of his reverie.

“Dude, sorry--” he said, dropping gracelessly to the floor and plunging his hand into Derek’s track pants.

“Not gonna take much,” Derek managed to mumble, giving way so Stiles could wrap his own hand around Derek’s cock.

He wasn’t kidding. It took less than five pulls before Derek’s hips bucked then stilled, and he coated Stiles’ hand and fingers with hot stickiness.

Stiles slumped forward onto Derek’s shoulder, not even bothering to take his hand out of Derek’s pants. “Blew my fucking mind, dude,” Stiles expressed, still feeling breathless. “Oh my God, I think I love you.”

Derek snorted into his neck.

Stiles waited a beat then he lifted his head so he could look directly at Derek. “No,” he said, the realization hitting like a smack to the forehead. “I really think I love you, Derek.”

Derek’s expression was a mix of surprise and wonder. He angled his head and leaned in, brushing his lips across Stiles’. Then he mumbled something that sounded like “ _thinkiloveyoutoo_ ”.

A bubble of happiness burst inside Stiles and his lips spread into a grin. It wasn’t perfect – they were sprawled on the floor in front of Derek’s apartment door, Stiles’ hand still crammed down the werewolf’s pants, a right sticky mess – but at that moment, it felt like the best thing in the world.

Derek was on his cell phone with Lucy when Stiles let himself into the apartment.

“Don’t worry about me, Lucy-girl, I’ll be okay,” Derek was saying. He smiled when he saw Stiles. “I got Stiles here to keep me company.”

It was the eve of another full moon. Derek had tried to negotiate with the Campbells to let Lucy have a sleepover but Lucy’s foster parents were reluctant to agree given that it was a school night. And there was simply no way that Derek could bring up the full moon as a reason that Lucy should spent the night at his apartment.

The last full moon had been much easier on Lucy. She hadn’t even shifted but she had been wound tight nevertheless. But that was because she had been with Derek and Stiles. Stiles knew Derek was worried that Lucy would have a hard go this full moon because she was separated from her pack and her alpha. 

“Call me if you need me,” Derek said into the phone. “And I’ll be right there.”

It was the only reassurance Derek could give the little girl. He couldn’t very well insinuate himself into the Campbell’s home uninvited.

“Love you too, Lucy-girl.”

Derek ended the call, dropping his cell phone into his lap. He looked dejected, almost helpless, and Stiles felt the urge to cuddle him. What Derek needed was a distraction and Stiles knew just the thing that would do it.

Stiles climbed into Derek’s lap, straddling him. “She’ll be okay, Derek,” he tried to reassure. They had talked to Lucy earlier about what to do to keep herself anchored and at bay. Mr. Wolfy would serve as a talisman, her connection to the alpha, to Derek. And she could call Derek at any time. Well, granted that the Campbells would let her use the phone if she needed to without too much suspicion. It was the best plan they had and Stiles fully intended on projecting confidence in it for Derek’s sake. 

Well, that. And to provide a distraction.

“Take me to bed and fuck me senseless,” Stiles told the alpha, delighting in the way Derek’s eyebrows nearly got lost from shooting up so high and the way his pupils blew wide with obvious lust. 

They were already past their “first time” (according to heteronormative standards at least), Stiles having let Derek take his ‘virginity’ a week ago in celebration of Derek landing the job at The Beacon. It had been only slightly awkward and a tiny bit painful but Stiles came out of the experience realizing one thing: He loved the feel of Derek inside of him. And he wanted to have Derek inside him pretty much all the damn time.

Horny teenager, remember?

Derek growled and it made something hot coil low in Stiles’ abdomen. Derek stood up, lifting Stiles along with him. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s body, burying his face into Derek’s neck, as Derek carried him to the bedroom. 

Derek laid Stiles back as he crawled onto the mattress. His cell phone dropped between them. Derek picked it up and placed it on the floor next to the mattress, wanting it out of the way but not too far away in case Lucy called. He made quick work of removing Stiles’ clothes and then his own. Derek covered Stiles’ naked body with his own, going straight for Stiles’ neck with tongue and mouth.

They played around for a bit, nipping, sucking, licking. Then they got down to more serious business. Stiles had always marvelled at how much control Derek had over his wolf side during a full moon. He knew from Derek and the others that control was maintained by hooking onto an anchor – something or someone who grounded the human side and kept the wolf at bay. For Scott, it was Allison. For Lucy, it was Derek. For Derek, it was anger. At least that’s what he had told Isaac during the beginning phases of the betas’ adaptation to being turned.

He wondered if a werewolf’s anchor stayed consistent over time. Stiles felt no anger coming from Derek at the moment, on the rise of the full moon. What he did feel – and see – was vulnerability mixed in with a little desperation and a whole lot of unbridled passion. 

Maybe Derek’s anchor was more than anger, Stiles thought.

Stiles felt the barest hint of fangs grazing his neck. Okay, so maybe Derek’s wolf was not completely under control but Stiles wasn’t complaining. The animal side of Derek, so long as it wasn’t ripping his throat out or turning him into a werewolf, was actually a turn on. Stiles tilted his head back, exposing more of his throat to Derek, letting the werewolf scrape the sharp points of his teeth across the tender skin of his neck. Stiles wasn’t worried. He trusted Derek. 

Afterwards, they lay tangled in the sheets together, Derek snoring softly, Stiles trying not to drool on Derek’s shoulder.

A phone buzzed nearby. Stiles’ first thought was that it was Derek’s and he felt his heartbeat spike – Lucy! But Derek had already grabbed his phone and was shaking his head. Apparently it was _Stiles’_ phone that was ringing.

Stiles scrambled over the edge of the mattress and reached for the discarded pile of clothes that were his. He found his cell phone in his jeans’ pocket and quickly answered.

“The Campbells just called,” his dad said from the other end. “Lucy’s run away.”

Stiles took a deep breath. Okay. No need to panic. “How long?” he asked. Derek was hovering tensely behind him. “How long has she been gone?”

“A couple of hours,” his dad said. “Long enough to go some distance even on little feet.” His dad paused as if considering his next words. “She hasn’t shown up at Derek’s apartment, has she?”

“No,” Stiles answered, pushing aside the awkward fact that his dad obviously knew he was with Derek right now. 

“Okay,” his dad said then switched to sheriff mode. “We’ll be organizing a search, starting within a ten-block radius. I’ve got three deputies out looking already.”

Stiles’ mind raced. If Lucy hadn’t come here, where would she go?

The woods.

Near the Hale house.

Home.

“I think I know where she may have gone,” he told his dad. 

Stiles ended the call with his dad and quickly pulled on his clothes. Derek was already dressed and looking worried.

“It’s the night of the full-moon, Stiles,” he said. “There are hunters crawling all over those woods. And she’s all alone. I need to get to her before they do.”

“ _We_ need to get to her,” Stiles corrected him. There was no way Derek was going to go searching for Lucy on his own. Stiles felt just as responsible for the little were-girl as Derek did.

“It’s too dangerous,” Derek argued.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “That’s why you need me doing my sidekick thing. Batman doesn’t make Robin stay home.”

Stiles pulled on his hoodie to expressly avoid seeing Derek’s eyes rolling.

It took Derek less than ten minutes to find Lucy by scent-tracking her. She was huddled on the edge of a clearing, not far from the Hale house, half-wolfed out and scared.

Stiles scooped her up and pressed a comforting kiss to Lucy’s temple, watching in amazement as the little girl’s wolf features seemed to melt away almost immediately. 

Shouts came from beyond the clearing – the hunters, no doubt – and Derek quickly shifted. He turned to Stiles and said, “I’ll lead them away. Get Lucy out of here.” He plunged back into the depths of the woods before Stiles even had a chance to reply. 

Stiles ran towards the Jeep, carrying Lucy the best he could on one hip. He wondered how many hunters there were, worrying a little about Derek. He knew the alpha could take care of himself, but still. 

They had almost made it to the Jeep when he heard a _zing_ and Stiles felt a stab of pain in his side. He looked down to see an arrow had pierced through his ribcage.

“Stiles!” Lucy screamed, as he stumbled forward and hit the ground with his knees. 

Two hunters burst through the woods, one bow and one rifle aimed at Stiles and Lucy.

“What have we got here,” one of the hunters drawled, cautiously making his way toward them, bow drawn. It seemed like a cowardly move, considering they had trapped a seven-year-old werewolf girl and human teenage boy.

Stiles was now on his back in the dirt, Lucy curled up against his arrow-free side, her face full of worry and fear. He was down and hurting but that didn’t stop Stiles from being a sarcastic shit and muttering, “Asshole,” and not at all under his breath.

The other hunter laughed. 

The laugh was short-lived, however, when a roar sounded from behind him and Derek came crashing through the woods. He went straight for the hunters, taking them out, but not killing them. Then he rushed over to where Stiles was laying pitifully.

“Let’s go,” he said, already hoisting Stiles to his feet, slinging one of Stiles’ arms around his shoulders for support. “The others aren’t too far off.”

Stiles could hear them and knew they were close, most likely drawn in their direction by Derek’s roar. “Just--” he said, wincing through the pain as his body was jostled from the movement. “Just leave me here and go. Get Lucy away before they--”

Derek did an epic eye roll. “Don’t be an idiot, Stiles,” he said. “I’m not going to leave you here to bleed to death.”

Stiles was sure he could hear the ‘duh’ in Derek’s tone. “Okay,” he replied shakily. “Um, thanks.”

He waited until he saw they had reached the Jeep before promptly passing out.

When Stiles woke, it was to find his dad looking down at him with a worried frown.

“Do I really _want_ to know how an _arrow_ came to be stuck in your side?” the sheriff asked.

“Probably not,” Stiles replied. 

“Okay then,” his dad said. “Well, kid, now that you’re awake, there’s someone in the hall just _bursting_ to see you, so can I let her in?”  
Stiles nodded.

His dad had barely pulled the door open when Lucy came rushing in, skipping across the floor and launching herself at Stiles, who had the wherewithal to protect his tender arrow-pierced side as she latched onto him and squeezed tight.

“Stiles!”

“I see you got yourself a fan,” his dad remarked with a grin and all Stiles could do was shrug, patting Lucy on the head like a little pup.

Derek, he noticed, was leaning against the wall near the door, watching them.

The sheriff jerked his head in Derek’s direction. “She’s not your only fan.” His dad gave Derek a nod as he slipped past him out the door.

Derek pushed off the wall and came to stand next to Stiles’ bed, his eyebrows drawn together, his mouth pulled down in a frown. Stiles decoded the look as Derek expressing concern.

“You okay?” Derek asked.

Stiles reached out and took Derek’s hand. “I’m okay,” he said.

Derek smiled. “Good.”

Stiles felt Lucy wiggling against his side. “Stiles, are you gonna kiss Derek now for saving you?”

Derek laughed and Stiles grinned. “Yeah, Lucy-girl,” he said. “I’m definitely gonna do that. But I think I need help.” He puckered his lips and gave Derek a mischievous wink.

Derek leaned in so Stiles didn’t have to strain himself by stretching up to kiss him. Then he kissed Stiles’ mouth, keeping it light and sweet. 

Lucy squealed happily as she burrowed herself further into Stiles’ uninjured side. He saw Derek’s mouth spread into a smile. 

So yeah, Stiles been hit with an arrow in his side, which was pretty inconvenient, but in truth it hardly bothered Stiles because when Derek smiled, there was really nothing else in the world.

In the end, Stiles told his dad everything - about Lucy, about Derek, about Scott. To Stiles’ surprise, his dad seemed to take it all in stride. It made Stiles respect and love the man even more. His dad was awesome.

His dad not only used his position as sheriff but also vouched for Derek so that Lucy could be returned to her alpha, her pack. When the people at Child Services put up a bit of a stink (apparently Ben’s mother Felicia was part of the agency’s community board), the sheriff calmly reminded them that Derek had saved the lives of both Lucy and his son who had been caught in the cross-hairs of some reckless hunters and that made him _more_ than competent to care for his seven-year-old orphaned cousin.

They were lying on Derek’s bed, Lucy and Stiles both snuggled up against Derek’s sides. Derek was reading a story to Lucy while Stiles provided encouragement and both he and Lucy were tickled pink when Derek actually changed his voice for the different characters and added a few sound effects. 

When he was done reading, Derek closed the book and looked down at both Lucy and Stiles, his expression soft. Stiles didn’t have to wonder what it meant, he could read it plainly in the alpha’s eyes.

Pack. 

Family.

Lucy snuggled in closer to both of them and Stiles tightened his arms around the werewolves. Stiles was content. He knew there was no place he would rather be at this moment.

It was right where he belonged.

  


[Epilogue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1125149)


End file.
